


Safety Net

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, schmoopy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fulcrum's world is still shifting upside down as he gets used to life on the WAP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safety Net

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoxyTurttle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyTurttle/gifts).



> Inspired by a pre-K-Class Fulcrum headcanon of Foxy's :3

Grimlock rolled over, venting a soft sigh as Fulcrum shifted to straddle his abdomen. This new angle gave Fulcrum another side to wash, and he set about his task vigorously, thumbing the wet sponges as far as they could go between armour gaps. A loud rumble vibrated beneath the tech, making him laugh.

"You'll do just about anything for a wash, won't you?" Fulcrum murmured, swiping up toward the Dinobot's chest. "Funny how you go all strutless as soon as I wave a rag at you."

"You bomb _best_ ," Grimlock growled happily.

"Not much of a bomb anymore," Fulcrum chuckled, then froze as steps sounded on the ladder nearby. Grimlock sat up, pressing the tech to his chassis protectively as Krok's worn pedes came into view.

"Five more kliks!" Grimlock roared.

"Sorry, Grim," Krok huffed as he jumped the last few feet and landed heavily. "It's shift change."

"Already?" Fulcrum frowned as he wriggled from Grimlock's grasp and gathered his cleaning supplies. "Well, time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

Grimlock whined, hands curling into large fists as he stared between them. Krok crossed his arms, leveling a returned stare until Fulcrum straightened and noticed. The tech laughed again, rubbing a hand over Grimlock's helm.

"I'll finish later," Fulcrum promised, kicking the supplies into the corner before gripping one of the ladder rungs. "You should get going too, Grimmy. You don't want Crankcase to come looking for you, do you?"

Grimlock snorted, drawing himself up to his full height as he glared. "Me Grimlock wanna see him try."

Krok huffed in amusement, nodding at Fulcrum before climbing up out of the engine room. Fulcrum quickly followed, belatedly wiping his damp hands on his thighs once they reached the main level. Krok didn't say anything as they moved down the hall; while that wasn't unusual with Fulcrum worked with him, the stiff set of his shoulders were. Their captain took on the stress of maintaining the ship and crew but rarely appeared distressed by the responsibility, something Fulcrum was still trying to wrap his logic processors around.

This shift Fulcrum was attempting to recalibrate a newly installed sidegun, a nearly intact weapon that had fit nicely on the W.A.P.'s hull. While this was probably more of Crankcase's area, Fulcrum had the technical know-how to integrate the weapon into the ship's systems. Krok, surprisingly, had volunteered to assist, professing an interest in learning more about the gun itself.

Now, however, Krok had settled in beside the tech and was staring at the console, seemingly staring far past it and into the far distance.

Usually Fulcrum wouldn't get involved and keep on task; if being a Decepticon had taught him anything, it was to keep his head down and stay invisible. He was happiest when unnoticed, allowed to go about his work and pleasure without micromanagment. On the W.A.P., however, he had experienced a freedom and camaraderie that he'd only dreamed of in his youngest years, and Krok had a large part in that. Pit, Fulcrum had been willing to succumb to his adoptive programming and suicide bomb the fraggin' _DJD_ to save the motley crew. In comparison, a few curious words weren't nearly as frightening.

Sighing, he rocked back from the control panel and set his spanner down, facing Krok bravely. "So..." he mumbled awkwardly, "what's going on?"

Krok's optics narrowed slightly as he refocused on Fulcrum. A strange silence settled between them, nudging at Fulcrum's half-forgotten fears of _don't speak up don't get attention._

Finally Krok vented slowly, tilting his head. "While I'm not complaining in any conceivable way, I've been wondering why you spend so much time with Grimlock."

Fulcrum straightened, surprised into smiling by the relatively bland question. "That's- Well, it's simple enough, I guess, though kinda embarrassing. I always, uh, endeared myself to the biggest, baddest Con around for protection. Before the reformat, I was even smaller and weaker and I got tossed around a lot, so I made some big friends to take care of that." He scoffed, gaze dropping to his lap. "Don't really need to do that anymore, but. Y'know. Old habits. And besides," he added with a laugh, "I really _do_ like Grimmy. He's... not what I expected a gigantic Autobot weapon in mech form to be like. I mean, _Dinobot tummy rubs_? How much crazier can you get than _that?_ "

Another silence while Krok digested the information, pulling a frown from Fulcrum.

"Do you feel safe?"

Fulcrum sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "No, it's not that. I mean- yes. _Yes_ , that's what I mean. I think. I don't-," He paused, shaking his head. "It's a new concept for me, honestly. Before, I had some protection but those big mechs still did what they wanted, but I'm no worried about that here. You're unique, Krok, the way you run the ship. I'm- I'm still getting used to all this."

"Of course."

Krok's reply was quiet, the subtle words nearly lost in the background hum of the ship. When he offered nothing else, Fulcrum assumed that was that and turned back to the panel, mentally re-mapping the wiring he had to fix- then jumped when a bright hand reached over to touch- not grip- his wrist.

"There was a lot lost between the beginning and supposed end of the war," Krok continued softly. "But I never stopped looking at mechs as individuals. They aren't numbers or casualties."

Unsure of how to respond, Fulcrum remained frozen where he was but tossed Krok a lopsided grin. "See? That's what I can't understand about you. Not that _I'm_ complaining."

Krok nodded, pulling back and returning to staring at the console. A strip of heat remained on Fulcrum's arm where Krok's hand had been, his sensor clusters tingling from the brief contact. The moment seemed over, especially as silence stretched between them, and Fulcrum knew he should just let it go.

"Why'd you touch me?"

Fulcrum cringed as the question escaped his vocaliser, plastering an apologetic smile on his face when Krok turned to stare at him again. "I don't care," he added hastily, "it's not like it's- I mean- I don't mind," he stumbled. "Just- I don't- I don't understand you. And I have this eerie feeling _you_ understand everything about _me_ so I just- I dunno." He _didn't_ know, he didn't know what he was trying to say with his rambling, though he was fairly certain he was making whatever-this-was worse. He snapped his mouth shut and hunched his shoulders, fumbling around for his spanner.

A warm weight pressed to his arm, making Fulcrum freeze.

"You can be touched without violent intent," Krok said in a low voice. "I know Misfire is conditioning you to that- probably without your consent- but we're all 'safe' like he is. Like Grimlock is. Okay?"

Fulcrum's gaze darted down to Krok's hand where it rested lightly against him. The touch made him want to twitch and move, but not in the direction his instincts usually took him. He wanted more of it, a _lot_ more, _everywhere_ , and oh wasn't _that_ a dangerous thought. Fulcrum's face heated as he glanced up at Krok guiltily, shaking his head rapidly.

"I- I get it," he stuttered, leaning into Krok's hand. "Yeah, it's new but I like it. _Really_ like it."

Krok's optics crinkled in a smile, the broad thumb sweeping over the curve of Fulcrum's arm. "Good to know."

"Yeah." Fulcrum vented carefully, trying to ignore the heated air stirring in his armour. "Uhm. Thank you."

Krok shifted and Fulcrum huffed, slapping a hand over the historian's to keep it there.

"You don't have to stop," Fulcrum added in a rush, then ducked his head and began laughing. "It's been a long time since anyone was this... kind, can you tell?"

"Yeah. But that's okay." The hand slid up, fingering the seam between shoulder and arm plating. "Take your time, Fulcrum. Get comfortable. And if you need anything, I'm here."

Fulcrum peeked up at Krok, mildly surprised to find he trusted that statement without argument. He curled his fingers around Krok's hand, tracing the rough-edged scars curiously. His spark whirled frantically in its chamber as he sighed and straightened, meeting Krok's gaze steadily. "What about a frag?"

Krok's optics flared in interest as the grip on Fulcrum's arm tightened. "Wasn't what I'd planned on doing this shift."

Fulcrum grinned, covering his shyness by boldly sliding closer. "C'mon, you can't have gotten this far without learning how to adapt."

He was yanked forward into Krok's lap, thick fingers winding their way around his waist. "Same for you."


End file.
